


Constants

by AzureXSnake



Category: Bleach
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot, and SMUT, will add as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureXSnake/pseuds/AzureXSnake
Summary: You're new and all you know is you hate Aizen and you miss your wings, terribly.





	1. Everything Has Changed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have a bad habit of editing what I already post. Sorry in advance about it

You know the moon above your head and the sands beneath your body. Both perpetually silver, soft and delicate. Yet, now, they feel entirely different. Everything exactly as you know experienced from an unfamiliar perspective.

The hand that raises towards the starless sky; it is yours, yet it is not. Altogether foreign and unaccustomed to the delicate curve of your turning neck, you see the remnants of your former carapace shed; though, the granular sea that surrounds you overtakes them, just as it’s meant to.

You have progressed. Evolved. Moved forward from that which you once were. Or so he said to you, upon being sure you could see him through the lights that caused your vision to spot. As though to imprint upon you…

The tiles you had been rebirthed onto were far softer than that creature’s eyes, of that you were certain. The very thought of them unnerved you to the core. On top of being told that you were to serve him. What loyalty was there for you to give? He, who had come into the den of his enemy and claimed it as his? You owe him naught but your mistrust, no matter what power he claims to so generously bestow unto you. He sees you as nothing more than beasts of his own design, warped by his hand, stripped of everything you took pride in as an Adjuchas. This body is no blessing.

Supposedly more powerful but unstable…

Out of sheer stubbornness, and lack of current purpose, do you venture from his “palace” into the open sands that you would still rather call home than his prison.

On too-new legs, your spiritual energies still overstimulating your own senses, you stand in this form, with no wings to grant you flight. A slap to the face mixes with the vulnerability that claws at you each time you feel them missing at your back, as if the bloodlust of every creature in Hueco Mundo is entirely focused on you.

However, the sword at your hip does sway with you; a reminder of all you were before and all you have yet to become. You will come into your potential out of vital necessity and you do not have the luxury of waiting for a convenient time when your survival hangs in the balance. Power is all that matters in Hueco Mundo, first and foremost, as it always has, and while you have never minded it, being able to survive just fine on your own, a shift has been forced and the playing field altered.

Adapt or die. Grow stronger or fall at the hands of those that are. You’ve never had a choice, then or now. But you will not do it for Sousuke Aizen; this you swear on the moon and sands of _your_ home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be brutal on this <3


	2. An Old Feeling for a New Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry again for editing after posting but I'm much happier with these now

Stupid is not something you've ever considered yourself to be, knowing well the limits of your abilities and how far you can push before it becomes too much. Even still, you willfully ignore the line between can and cannot from time to time and force the boundaries of your comforts to accommodate. You take calculated risks where the ends justifies the means in the name of personal progression. And now, you manage to get yourself swept up in something frightening with crushing reiatsu and feral eyes so blue, they put Aizen’s “sky” to shame.

Despite rarely having business in Las Noches, you know an Espada when you see one. And you’d be hard pressed to miss him. His presence makes every impulse you have scream at you to flee but you don’t listen to a damn one of them.

From your roost on an outcrop of boulders, you have the perfect view of his slaughter. Lesser Hollows scatter, their instincts reacting similarly to the way yours had, but to no avail; he catches and kills them without regard, let alone remorse, if the murderous grin splitting his attractive face is anything to go by.

The power this turquoise-haired maniac exudes is intoxicating, your body feeling feather-light and completely exposed underneath its weight. It coats you, fills your throat until you choke on it, a suffocatingly hot blanket of reiatsu and him.

Watching him fight, all you think of is power. Listening to his grunts and fucking laughter in the wake of destruction, all you hear is power. All you see is his power. All you feel is the power. Power. _POWER_. You could get drunk off of it. Get high and go on a killing spree of your own. Your mouth practically waters at the prospect of a hunt.

You groan in sudden, over-arching frustration, envy prickling at his prowess as an Arrancar but you want to be closer. So. Much. Closer. Fuck favorable outcomes and likelihoods of survival for just this moment. You are a moth and he is an all-consuming, florescent flame. You need him.

Before you can so much as move a muscle from your perch, though, he’s gone in a flash, out of targets to stalk and prey to obliterate. Immediately following his absence, your chest heaves with exertion at simply _breathing_ , not realizing the full effect of his energy on you until it lets up. The feeling excites you to the point that you're conscious of your pupils blowing wide, positive it alone is enough to get off on.

Without so much as a thought in your head, you dive below the sands to the Forest of Menos. You need to kill, feel the slip of blood between your fingers, lest the fidgety nerves of lust and malice drive you insane.

Every slice and blow is heaven and you can’t keep the fits of giggles that come over you every now and then at bay. You haven’t felt so alive, so free, since before Aizen made you an Arrancar. Draining the life from other creatures, be they Shinigami, Hollow, or otherwise, to sustain yours had always been a necessity for fear of regression, but it never felt like this; so... so _liberating_! Your head spins and your eyes roll back and you're not sure if you've ever been more fulfilled. Maybe you'll try using your Resurrectccion soon. Who knows. Right now, the world is your oyster and these Gillian… HAH! It feels good to be you as your zanpakuto crashes down against another mask, striking harder than the previous time…

 _Have my movements always been this fluid?_ you wonder, dancing from foe to foe. _My body flows with such ease. Did the wind always whip so harshly against my skin during Sonido?_

You don't know but hell... _It doesn’t even matter!_

The only thing worth minding is the next thing that moves and how you want to kill it this particular time. You can't come down off your rampage until the essence of an unknown number of Hollows spatters your body, a deliciously refreshing ache finally permeating the frame of your bones to pair with it. Images of bright blue and snippets of cackling play in the addled haze of your mind as you lay down to sleep, a smile curving your lips.

”Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, hm?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't decided on an exact personality for Reader yet. Just that she's spiteful and headstrong and tough as nails. We'll see how she develops \o/ Sorry for the short kinda, fluff chapters. It's 1:18am *u* We'll get into real actual stuff later. Leave a comment or something pleeeeease <3


	3. Freedom at What Cost

Some deep part of your subconscious tells you not to open your eyes, even as you jolt awake under a wholly unwelcome pressure that pins you to the dune you called a bed not two seconds ago. Obeying that base instinct is all too easy with the tangible feel of Grimmjow’s predatory gaze stripping and flaying layers down to the basis of your being. There is no mistaking the singular thought going through his head at finding you: prey caught unawares.

‘Disadvantage!!!’ blares through yours at that fact and you try your hardest to steadily bring air into your lungs, regardless of what little success or comfort it offers you. Were this to have happened at another time, one where you could have been certain of his intentions and whether or not they involved killing you on the spot, maybe this would’ve been alright, nice even...

One day, perhaps, assuming you live long enough to see it.

”Can I help you?” you question, voice deceivingly bored, matching the eye you crack open to assess your homicidal visitor. Despite the clear contradiction between not letting him out of your sight and the sense of nonchalance you attempt to project, you don’t dare give him an inch while stretching the sleep from your joints. “Awfully rude, sneaking up on _and_ disturbing a woman while she sleeps. Don’t you know we need our beauty rest?”

Apparently, your bravado amuses him, the grin he sports widening perceptibly at the quip, accompanied by a harsh puff of a laugh bubbling from his chest as he steps further into your space. Up close, he’s even more imposing, fangs and azure hair catching the weak moonlight. You wish you can say you remain resolute out of strength, oh, how you wish.

”I don’t see how a fine piece of ass like you needs any of that bullshit," Grimmjow barks back. However crude the compliment may be, it does something to you. Not a whole lot of something, but enough that you’re unable to look completely unaffected by it, stunned to silence. His sharp senses do not let it go unnoticed either.

"Something the matter, little bird,” not an instant later, hard muscle forces you back to the ground, doing a damn fine job of winding you for the trouble, “cat got your tongue?”

As it had before, bright blue static threatens to overwhelm you beneath its dominating weight, made exponentially worse by his current closeness. The nerves in your body practically sing with every breath you take, breasts rising into his chest with each one. He’s far too close! Unfortunately-

“I’m assuming no one ever taught you the importance of foreplay either.” While you dust off the remaining granules that cling to your thighs and lower back, newfound distance grants you confidence. Only a Sonido away, yet, you cannot keep the agitation from seeping into your tone. Espada-status be damned. You will not be cowed by any man of Hueco Mundo so easily.

You’re just able to catch the expletive he growls at you. It still manages to elicit a barely-there smile, mostly in part to it being said with his face full of sand, having lost you to support him from below with no space to right himself.

... Unfortunately, you were not at all ready to wake up and his wild reiatsu only serves to set you alight with defiance. More choice words are spit your way that you can’t be bothered to care for. You offer no response to them other than a solid roll of your eyes and an exasperated sigh. Dammit, you’d really been sleeping so well, too.

”Don’t look down on me, bitch!”

Grimmjow leaves you no more time to react, sending a punch aimed for your face that only misses by a hair’s width. He doesn’t swing again, satisfied with the apparent result you gave to his perverse test. You can’t be tough about this, either, or say you aren’t fairly thankful that you “passed.” The torrent of wind that rushed by you with the momentum spoke volumes of what that blow would have done had you not dodged it. And you’re not confident you could have gone two-for-two just then.

Your adrenaline-wide eyes lock with his over his arm, still outstretched from follow-through, and the world stops. Fire consumes you, electricity the likes of which you never thought possible. It’s dangerous, whether handled right or wrong; volatile in the extreme. And he feels it, too, rage burned away at its presence in favor of a broad smirk that sends a chill down your spine to contrast the molten heat of your insides.

“Unless, you’re looking for a fight, woman,” he half taunts. You leave that half-gauntlet on the ground where it damn well belongs. “I felt your reiatsu. You’re sure as hell not a complete weakling. So, why are you out here when you could serve the King?”

Had you really been so careless with your energy before that you just let it spill? Oops...

Irresponsible reiatsu-suppression aside, now, it’s your turn to be amused, balk even, at what he suggests. How can a man be so entirely confident in himself? There are those above him, the ‘6’ on his back a clear indication of it, without forgetting those vile Shinigami. And that’s just in Hueco Mundo! Yet he has no reservations against acting as though he is above them all!

It’s endearing, to an extent, and utterly foolish when you change the viewing angle even the slightest bit. You’re blind-sided by an urge to protect this diluted moron of a cat from himself. You might have actually said ‘yes’ if a pulse of debilitating energy hadn’t sent your stomach roiling.

_Fucking Aizen, that bastard._

Senses regained, you back away several paces from your would-be master, although he has very graciously keeps a grip on you for the moment it takes to happen. Credit where it’s due, you suppose. He looks as pissed at being summoned as you do having been subjected to it.

He also grouses over the space between you but knows now is not the time, as much as he hates it. “We aren’t finished.”

”Oh, I think we are.” You can’t help the open disgust forcing its way into your expression, thoughts of more directly being crushed under Aizen’s thumb through Grimmjow filling your head. “Count me out. I have no intention of furthering that prick’s conquest of Hueco Mundo by serving his housecat.”

You’re off like a bullet in the opposite direction of Las Noches, so fast you can’t hear whatever insults Grimmjow hurls your way over the hard jab to his pride.

_Not strong enough yet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to you guys who've left me stuff to read, I appreciate it <3 hopefully this doesn't let ya down :D How do you feel about Reader's first encounter with Grumpy Cat?


	4. Scream Your Heart Out

Truly, seeing Las Noches come into view on the horizon, you know that ugly blight of a fortress is the last place you want to be. Regardless, your legs are too busy hopping tiny stone rooftops, drawn in by some twisted sense of magnetism, to care. 

_I was right to say no_ , you tell yourself for probably the hundredth time since so thoroughly rejecting Grimmjow’s offer. Battling to take your mind off the encounter with the Sexta and subsequently, having to clean yourself up; even returning to your old nest with the hope of fitful slumber...

None of it worked to distract you in the slightest.

You try, again, to win yourself over with detached logic: _I don’t have anything that could be of use to him._

Of course, as if to prove you utterly wrong, your brain so helpfully supplies the mental images of Grimmjow looming over you: rigid muscles slotted against much softer curves, cocky leer mere inches from your face, eyes so penetratingly sapphire they practically did a better job at pinning you than the arms at either side of your shoulders… DO NOT help to placate the vexation bent on causing you turmoil.

Begrudgingly, you accept that nothing will pan out for you today. The lines of your scowl deepen and a tiny voice in your mind says something about wrinkles. It is promptly told to shut the hell up, pieces of dislodged masonry sent tumbling to the earth below against the weight of your unrestrained aggression.

”Damn cat.”

A last few vaults land you atop one of the few pillars that extend higher than the artificial firmament. You turn and spit in contempt at the emulation of worlds far removed from your own, impetuously collapsing to the tower, initial venom lacking potency as your tangent continues. Either way, those malcontent ramblings, about that stupid jerkoff with his annoyingly hot face, reach the ears of none. Save for the crooked moon above, your only companion and dutiful witness for most of your existence. At least its unobstructed glow soothes your fraying nerves a bit.

You lean back, legs kicking off the edge of the structure, and stare into the endless darkness. Times like these make you miss your wings more than ever. Memories of wind rustling through prismatic feathers and just-for-fun midflight tricks take the place of cyan. Breathing becomes easier but the longing in your heart won’t rest.

There is no gust to dissuade, nor tailwind to egg you on as you stand. Purpose drives your steps back from the curved ledge, a primordial urge taking hold in place of long-since relinquished control. The crescent watches on as you unsheathe your blade and angle it behind you, voice a fervent whisper.

”Deliver,-“ 

You probably won’t die.

One. Two. Three bounds. One leap. Then open air. And you hurtle towards the ceiling you so despise. Release sticks in your throat, unwilling to be spoken under the deafening tempest that joins freefall.

_CALL IT!_

Your eyes slam shut as the silence around you shatters against its name… 

”Grifo!”

Gravity’s pull becomes inconsequential to you, floating prone in a chrysalis of zephyrs. An awareness akin to waking up from deep sleep tugs at your consciousness and when you lift your lids to it, you feel them.

 _Six_ wings line your back, each pair growing smaller down the column of your spine, a tufted tail lashing at the base.

Whirlwinds disperse with the rip of fiendish talons to make way for an expanse of inky feathers. The dark violets shift in the moonlight as you twirl: magenta and cerulean, yellows and teals opalesce to create blackened rainbows with every move. Turning left, to right, you feel tears well up at the sight. ‘Home’ does no justice to describe what you’ve come back into. You are _whole_.

The persistent beat of your wings helps to fill the void of temporary loss their absence left. But it isn’t enough.

Barreling at break-neck speeds between the obelisks, startled by your own agility and ease of maneuvering, that itch to challenge _something_ comes back in full force. You rocket into the atmosphere until it thins, in hopes of catching some unsuspecting creature off-guard. Instead, a familiar presence pops up on your radar, much fainter than it has any business being.

Curiosity leaves you no room to ignore the purposely tamped aqua.

You find Grimmjow propped on a wall at the entry point of Las Noches, hands shoved in his pockets. Irritation rears in you with how unaffected he looks by your sudden appearance, even as the turbulence you cut, bespeaking speeds that very well go against time and space, chases you down into the corridors, whipping angrily that it could not match your pace. No matter…

”If you’re trying to hide,” you tease, a smirk playing across you features, “you should really put your reiatsu all the way out, housecat.”

The same could be said for you, but there’s a major difference between your situations: you aren’t actively trying to avoid suspicion, as you aren’t doing anything worth being suspicious of. He knows that much. Despite your closeness in proximity to the Hollow, it’s difficult to feel anything coming from him, leaving you with a sense of being had.

Except for a menacing growl at the less-than-flattering epithet, Grimmjow keeps quiet, visible calculations taking place behind the azure that _feasts_ on the sight of your Resurreccion. Heat you don’t care to acknowledge blossoms through you at the same time that he straightens and steps forward.

“It’s a good look for you.” Whatever way the real compliment utterly takes you by surprise, you’re careful not to let it show. “Put it away before you get us caught. And don’t fucking call me that,” he snarls, voice coming out smooth as silk wrapped around the astringent order. It makes no sense how he manages to be so gorgeously crass.

You obey, re-sealing and kicking up a swirl of dust in the process, left with your sword jutting into the space behind you once more. On one hand, a small part of you laments as you sheathe the blade. On the other, the pragmatic majority scrutinizes a single word that puts you on edge.

“What do you mean ‘us?’”

Like a lightning strike, he’s a at your side with a firm grip on your arm.

_Shit, that grin is bad news!_

”Means you’re coming with me.”

There’s just no time for you to react. He effortlessly forms a Garganta, doesn’t even wait for it to fully open, and drags you inside.

”Are you serious?!” you shriek while trailing him. You don’t fight his hold, already far enough in that you’re along for the ride whether you want to be or not. Whatever it is he has planned reeks of trouble and your pulse thrums in exhilaration at the possibilities. You aren’t sure which you appreciate less.

”Shut it before I kill you!” Oh, oh no…

You shake off his hand, a potent mix of indignation and his idiocy forcing you to take the lead from him.

”I’ll shut up when you stop saying dumb shit!” you snap, not offering so much as a glance over your shoulder. It doesn’t occur to you that may have been a grave mistake until a tight grasp at the roots of your hair pulls you back, joined by a crushing pressure against your ribs.

”Where the fuck do you get off talking to me like, woman?” You yelp as the vice of his arm tightens on your protesting bones. He even went so far as to lift you off the ground. You have no leverage to try an escape but that doesn’t stop your mouth from fueling the fire.

”I wouldn’t if you didn’t throw out hollow threats!” That earns you a harsh tug of your hair, head having to tilt back to ease the pain. “Why lure me into finding you if you don’t want me here? And I wouldn’t be here if I really didn’t want to be, either. I’m not an idiot, Grimmjow!”

While it’s a little more than you wanted to admit, your outburst gets him to set you back on the constructed path.

”Tch.” His hands return to their place in his pockets as he sulks in his own way at being found out. He doesn’t look to check on you, the jackass, just leaves you to soothe the ache of your middle in peace.

He leads the rest of the way in silence, shoulders hunched.

At least it’s quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I had the worst case of writer's block until 2 hours ago but the update is heeeeere!! \o/ I'm gonna try to put out at least a chapter a week, give or take. Reader is really fleshing out and I'm happy about it. Power-wise, she's actually strong enough to be an Espada. But she's not one???? How come?????? :O
> 
> As always, feedback from you guys is welcome and appreciated <3 Thanks for reading! :D
> 
> UPDATE: The next chapter is gonna be up soon guys, it's just a long one so it's taking more time than usually. I'm hoping to get it up by Monday at the latest though! Thanks for bearing with me <3 I think you're gonna love it!! :3c

**Author's Note:**

> Please be brutal on this <3


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